He came into my life like a whispered threat. Powerful. Composed. Untouchable. Nikolai Vetrova wears his name like armor. Polished. Feared. Etched in blood. To the world, he is a refined businessman. To me, he is the man who bought my painting and then tried to buy me. I was nineteen. A scholarship student. Alone in a city that did not care if I disappeared. But he noticed. He watched. And when he spoke, I listened, even when I should not have. Even when every warning told me to run. Because beneath his name is a man I should never want and a darkness I might not survive.
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